This Is Gospel
by yourrecordsallilistento
Summary: Dean Winchester started working at the Illinois Behavioral Medicine Center to save people. He could never have guessed that it would also save him.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Supernatural, any of their characters or anything that can be related to something that exists in the real world. I do not support some of the behaviors that the characters posess.

**Warnings:** Minor swearing, mentions of violence/injuries and possibly mildly sexually suggestive (in future chapters). _**Trigger-warning for self-harm.**_

**Author's notes: **Hello dear readers! So here is a new story! I got some inspiration from a few specific episodes (you probably know which ones) and couldn't get this story out of my mind. It's an AU. I'm **_nervous_**. My stories for Glee always got good response, but since this is my first for Supernatural, I have no clue how it's going to be recieved. I really hope you like it as much as I do, though! Enjoy! :*

_Italic text_ are thoughts.

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>This Is Gospel<strong>_

**Chapter 1**

Thursday the 18th September 2008

Dean gets into work at noon, sitting down at his desk to do some paperwork. He flips the lid of a folder closed and reaches for one of the two stamps by his desk lamp. He sighs heavily as he picks the left one up and stamps the front of the case folder.

_Deceased. _

He stares at the red letters for a moment, before putting the stamp back and filing the folder in the gray cabinet next to his desk. He had gotten into this line of work to save people. He tries his hardest, and he has helped save many. But sometimes there is just nothing he can do, it seems. One of his patients had hanged herself in her room this morning, before his shift had started. Having a patient commit suicide was never a sign of a good day to come. But Dean has to push on. Maybe this woman's death could help him get more motivated to help his other patients.

Dean closes the cabinet drawer and pinches the bridge of his nose. There is a knock on his door, and he moves to regain his composure.

"Come in!" he calls, smiling politely as one of the nurses enters the room.

"Mr. Winchester. A new patient has been admitted and the boss wants you on the case." The nurse walks over to his desk and hands him the case file she was holding.

"Thank you, Jocelyn." Dean eyes the sticker on the front.

"They've got him all settled so you can go see him when you're up to speed with the case." Jocelyn says, moving back toward the door.

"Have a good night." Dean says as he flips the folder open, not watching as Jocelyn leaves the room and closes the door behind her. He skips reading the name on the folder, having a tradition of letting the patients tell him when they themselves feel ready.

_Case #2402613  
>Patient admitted after hospital visit for lacerations to both palms and wrists.<br>Initial analysis: Paranoid schizophrenic with religious psychosis and self-harming tendencies. _

Dean sighs heavily and flips the folder closed again, laying it on his desk and picking his small notebook up to stuff it in his pocket. He stands and shakes his head for a moment. A religious patient. It had been a long while since he had gotten a new one of those.

Leaving his office, he stops by the nurse's station to ask what room his new patient is in.

"Case number 2402613." he tells the nurse and taps his fingers on the counter between them as she checks her computer.

"Room 13." she finally replies with a smile.

Dean strides off, throwing a quick "Thank you, nurse." over his shoulder.

* * *

><p>Dean lifts his hand to knock on the door, but hesitates for a moment. He takes a deep breath and knocks.<p>

There is no answer. He opens the door carefully, sticking just his head in. He keeps his body behind the door, since he has been attacked when entering a patient's room in the past.

There is a figure curled up in the corner of the room, seemingly looking out the window. Dean steps inside and the door clicks closed behind him. "Hello there. I'm Dean." The figure doesn't move, so Dean does. He takes another slow step forward. "I thought I would come talk to you for a bit. It seems you've had a rough day."

The fading sunlight that seeps in through the half-closed blinds reveals a head of short, unruly dark hair. The man's eyes are fixed somewhere beyond the glass.

"What's your name, buddy?" Dean asks, kneeling between his patient and the bed. He would sit on the bed, but he's had patients freak out about that in the past. There is still no answer. "Is it okay if I sit on your bed?" Dean asks instead. He thinks he sees the man nod slightly.

Dean rises back into a standing position, pausing to look at the man again before sitting down on the bed. "Do you know where you are?" This time Dean is sure that the man nods. "You're in the Illinois Behavioral Medicine Center. I'm Dean Winchester. I work here."

The man's eyes flicker toward the floor for a moment before returning their gaze out the window.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk right now. I love talking about myself. Is it okay if I tell you some things about me?" There is another small nod from the man. "I have worked here for about two years. I like watching bad shows on TV. I like junk food. I like rock music, preferably on cassette tapes. I LOVE my car. I have a '67 Chevy Impala. She's beautiful. I call her baby."

A noise that Dean can't determine if it's a huff of laughter or a scoff emits from the man in the corner. "I'm afraid of flying. I love pie. And I have a brother named Sam." The man in the corner has closed his eyes. "What are some things that you like?" The man doesn't move or make any noise.

Dean pauses for a moment, thinking. He doesn't want to mention how the man got here, as it might make him upset. He doesn't want to mention religion, as that could be a big trigger.

"Do you want me to come back later?" Dean asks, but gets no response. Sometimes patients need a long time to settle in whatever has happened to them or where they have wound up.

"I'll come back later." Dean rises from the bed and starts moving toward the door.

He looks back when his hand reaches the door handle. The man in the corner is still unmoving. So Dean opens the door and-

"Castiel."

"Sorry, what was that?" Dean says and turns around to look at the man again.

"Castiel." The man in the corner is facing him, blue eyes almost shining in the light from the window. "My name."

"Alright. Nice to meet you, Castiel. I'll come back in a little while, alright?"

The man - Castiel - nods and moves to look out the window again.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Patrick. Could you tell me a little more about Castiel?" Dean asks as he approaches another nurse in the hallway by his office.<p>

"Sure." Patrick replies. "What do you want to know?"

"How did he end up here?" Dean crosses his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his white coat a bit too short for him.

"Apparently his brother found him in his apartment, arms all cut up. He was drawing something on the wall with his own blood." Patrick answers, frowning. "The brother hadn't heard from him in a few days and got worried. He had been acting paranoid the last time they talked so he just wanted to check up on him. The guy was rambling something about angels coming for him and that he had to protect himself."

"Poor brother." Dean comments.

Patrick looks down at the floor, his frown deepening. "So he was rushed to the hospital and patched up. They thought he was best off coming here."

"I see. Thanks."

"No problem." Patrick nods politely before wandering further down the hallway.

Dean enters his office and pulls his dinner out of the mini-fridge in the corner. He sighs down at his salad, but takes it to his desk. He eats slowly, thumbing the lid of Castiel's almost-empty case folder.

* * *

><p>Dean knocks on the door to room thirteen. "Can I come in?" He peeks his head inside, to see Castiel sitting gingerly on the bed. The sun has set, leaving the room in almost complete darkness. Dean steps inside. "Can I turn on the lights?"<p>

He gets no audible answer, but Castiel leans forward and turns on the bedside lamp.

Dean moves into the room and sits down in the armchair by the window, where Castiel had sat earlier. He crosses his legs and folds his hands in his lap.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean is slightly surprised when the other man speaks. His voice is a low rumble. Slow, calm and patient.

"Hello, Castiel. How are you feeling?"

Castiel shrugs, a movement that looks odd. Like it's rehearsed.

"Did you eat some dinner?"

"No." Castiel replies.

"The food here isn't always very appealing." Dean notes, and the corner of Castiel's mouth twitches. Dean wants him to talk more, but he has to approach him patiently. He now knows a little more about Castiel's situation thanks to Patrick, but Dean never wants to tell his patients that he knows more about them than what they have told him themselves.

"Do you have any siblings?" Dean decides is a rather safe question. He hopes that Castiel will bring up the brother that took him to the hospital.

"Yes." is Castiel's reply.

"Wanna tell me about them?"

"I have a brother. Gabriel. He's short."

Dean smiles. Castiel is still looking at the floor, but his facial expression is soft.

"Is he older or younger?"

"He is older than me. But you'd never guess as much." Castiel is smiling, the slightest smile Dean has probably ever seen, but still a smile. "He has always loved pulling pranks, even as an adult. And he has a… sweet tooth. His home has candy wrappers all over the place, all the time."

"Are you two close?"

"Very. He has assisted me a lot with getting an apartment and such. He is the only sibling I speak to now."

"So you have more?" Dean asks softly.

"Many. My parents were very religious and thus, didn't believe in contraceptives."

"How many?"

"I'm the youngest out of thirteen siblings."

Dean lets out a low whistle. "Wow, that's many. I only have the one."

Castiel visibly stiffens. "Michael, Joshua, Raphael, Uriel, Balthazar, Gabriel, Gadreel, Daniel, Lucy, Anna, Hannah, Samandriel and I." Castiel lists in a monotone voice.

"Some interesting names there." Dean offers.

"Like I said, my parents were very religious. Our names were all inspired by… angels." Castiel shudders.

"I like your name. It's unique, unlike mine."

Castiel's eyes snap to Dean's face suddenly. "Dean is a beautiful name. It means "valley" or "leader"."

"Oh." Dean really hadn't expected that. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Castiel responds, moving his piercing blue gaze away from Dean. He looks down at his bandaged hands, wiggling the fingertips poking out at the top. "I'm really very tired now." He sighs heavily and lies down on his side, facing away from Dean.

"Alright." Dean stands reluctantly. "I'll come check on you tomorrow. Goodnight, Castiel."

"Goodnight."

Dean watches Castiel's bent back for a moment before leaving the room. When he enters the hallway and closes the door behind him, he looks through the small window beside the door. Castiel is curled up in a fetal position on top of the covers, not moving except for picking at the fabric of his comforter.

After sighing again Dean checks his wristwatch and notes that he still has several hours left before his shift ends. So he walks down the corridor to visit another one of his patients. He knocks on the door to room number six and steps in carefully.

"Meg? How are you doing this evening?"

A woman with dark hair and dark eyes turns her head to look at Dean as he enters the room. She's sitting on her bed, smiling mischievously. A thick book is laid out on the duvet in front of her. "Hey Deano." she greets. "I'm bored out of my mind."

"Oh, really?" Dean sits down in the armchair in the corner, taking his notepad out of his pocket, flipping to a new page.

"I know what you're thinking." she remarks, narrowing her eyes at him. "That I am already out of my mind."

"Your words, not mine." Dean says cheekily. Meg has been here for some time now, and she responds best to sarcasm and snarky comments. "I heard that you caused a scene at breakfast."

Meg scoffs. "I would hardly call that a "scene". All I did was pour my cereal onto that old man's head."

"And what did Fergus do to upset you this time?" Dean quirks an eyebrow at the brunette.

"He called me a wh- a foul name." Meg lifts her chin into the air slightly, clenching her jaw.

"And did you do anything to upset him that would cause him to do so?" Dean scribbles a short note in his notebook.

"No!" she exclaims before crossing her arms over her chest. She's quiet for a moment. "I might have noted that he still hadn't died of old age."

Dean smiles slightly at her confession. "You two…" he trails off, writing down another sentence.

"I heard there's a new guy." Meg slides her legs off the edge of the bed, her feet dangling far above the floor. "He hot? I didn't see him at dinner."

"He's still getting accustomed to his new environment. I suggest you leave him alone." Dean gives Meg a hard look, showing that this issue is not a joking-matter. "He'll approach you guys when he's ready."

"So he is hot. Must be why you want him for yourself." Meg looks thoughtfully toward the ceiling.

Dean rolls his eyes. "He's my patient." Dean stands, stuffing his notepad back in his pocket. "I have a couple more patients to see before bed. I'll see you in your session tomorrow. And try to be nice to Fergus until then. Goodnight, Meg."

"Night, Deano!" she calls sweetly after him as he leaves.

* * *

><p>The next patient Dean visits is Fergus MacLeod in room number twenty-seven. He knocks hard before stepping inside.<p>

"Hello doctor." The bearded man greets in his British - _Or was it Scottish?_ - accent.

"Evening, Fergus." Dean greets.

The man is sitting in his armchair like it's a throne. "You're here to talk about the incident at breakfast, I presume?"

"Exactly." Dean confirms, sitting on the foot of Fergus' bed. "Wanna tell me your version?"

"I don't understand why that girl is always so rude. I'm such a sweetheart."

"Uh-huh…" Dean plucks the notebook from his pocket. "She said you called her a foul name."

"I did."

"Fergus." Dean sighs. "You need to be respectful toward the other patients. We've talked about this. Just walk away from her if she's bothering you."

"She should know better than to bother me."

"Maybe. But her bothering you does not give you the right to call her names."

"Fine." Fergus rubs his beard.

"I told her to be nice. But that goes for the both of you." Dean writes down a few words. "But dinner went well?"

"Yes. Rather boring meal, however. I wish you'd get us a decent chef."

"I wish I could." Dean stands. "I need to put this incident down in both of your records. But I'll see you in your session tomorrow."

"Very well." Fergus replies. "Have a lovely evening."

"You too."

Dean leaves the room and returns to his office. He transfers his notes from the breakfast-incident into both Fergus' and Meg's files before doing some more paperwork.

* * *

><p>During his evening-shifts Dean mostly visits his patients briefly to check on them and then spends the rest of the night doing paperwork. Tomorrow Dean has the day-shift however, in which he has hour-long sessions with all his patients in the "Discussion Room".<p>

There is a soft knock on the door and Dean calls for his visitor to enter. It turns out to be one of his fellow psychiatrists, and also dear friends.

"Hello Benny." Dean greets happily as the other man enters and sits in the chair on the other side of Dean's desk.

"Hello Dean. I heard you got a new patient today."

"I did. He had a rough day. But I think he'll settle in well, with some time. He was very calm when I talked to him."

"That's good. It's always hard in the beginning." Benny smiles kindly. "All my patients had a good day today, miraculously. So I'm heading home in a minute."

"That's good to hear." Dean leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. "I still have about an hour before I leave."

"You want to get a couple of beers this weekend? Maybe watch the game?"

"Sure. My place?"

"If it means I don't have to bother tidying my place, absolutely." The two laugh together before Benny stands. "Well, I'll see ya'. Have a good one."

"You too." Dean waves as Benny leaves, already getting excited for some guy-time with his friend. It had been a while.

* * *

><p>When Dean puts the last file back in the cabinet, he's worked about ten minutes more than he thought. So he stands and hangs his white coat on a hook by the door. He shuts off the lights and locks his office behind him. It's just past midnight, but Dean decides to walk in the opposite direction of the front entrance and toward a last patient's room before going home. He walks slowly, careful not to make too much noise as his shoes hit the squeaky floor. He doesn't want to stir any of the patients from their slumbers. He rounds a corner and stops outside room number four. The light from a bedside lamp seeps through the tiny window into the corridor. Dean sighs and knocks softly on the door. There is no answer, so he opens the door as carefully as he can and quietly steps inside.<p>

Dean is met by a bright smile. He smiles back. "Hey, Sammy."

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued!<strong>

**Author's note:** DUN DUN DUUUN! So there you go! I really hope you like it. Feel free to give me suggestions on what you would like to see, and I'll take them into consideration.

**Please leave a review to let me know what you thought of the chapter! I love you all. ^^**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Supernatural, any of their characters or anything that can be related to something that exists in the real world. I do not support some of the behaviors that the characters posess.

**Warnings:** Minor swearing, mentions of violence/injuries and possibly mildly sexually suggestive (in future chapters). _**Trigger-warning for self-harm in future chapters.**_

**Author's notes: **Hello dear readers! So here is the next chapter. I'm in a great writing-mood right now, so. ^^ There is a bit of brother-fluff in this chapter, but don't worry, Cas is in here too! :) I really hope you like this chapter! Enjoy! :*

_Italic text_ are thoughts.

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>This Is Gospel<strong>_

**Chapter 2**

"Hey, Sammy!"

"Hi, Dean." Sam pats the space beside where he's sitting on the bed. "I wasn't expecting you to visit tonight."

"I had a lot of paperwork to do. I guess you know that we lost a patient today." Dean sighs as he sits down beside his brother. "But how was your day?"

"It was good." Sam flinches and looks angrily toward the corner of the room. "It wasn't bad."

"Did you get to eat anything?" Dean carefully places a hand on one of Sam's long legs.

"No. It was maggots for breakfast, intestines for lunch and rotten flesh for dinner."

"So the meds are still not helping with the hallucinations? I think they've tried every combination of drugs that we have on you by now."

"It's okay, Dean. I wasn't very hungry, anyway." Sam flinches again, this time ignoring whatever he's seeing in the corner.

"Sammy, it's been two days since you managed to eat anything. And that wasn't even a full meal." Dean frowns at his brother's forced smile, watching as he flinches again. He rubs his thumb absently across Sam's sweatpants-covered leg. He can feel the bones move under Sam's skin as he flinches again.

"I know, Dean. I'm trying." Sam closes his eyes tightly, pressing his fingers to his temples.

"I know, Sammy, I know." Dean forces the burning sensation in his eyes to fade away, clenching his jaw tightly. "I can be here early tomorrow and have breakfast with you, if you'd like? Make sure you're not eating anything gross. Okay?"

"If you have time. But I'll be fine." Sam moves his hands back into his lap, keeping his eyes closed and flinching again.

Dean pats Sam's leg before standing. "I need to go. I don't want to, but I-"

"You need some sleep."

"Yeah." Dean sighs for what feels like the hundredth time today. "Will you be okay?"

"I think so." Sam flinches.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Try to get some shut-eye, alright?"

"Goodnight Dean."

Dean moves reluctantly toward the door. "Night, Sammy."

Dean hates this. More than anything, he hates to leave his brother in this sterile white room to go home and sleep when he knows that Sam won't. When Sam needs him to be here. But Dean has his own patients to worry about too, and if he wants to help them he needs to be somewhat rested and focused. He knows that Sam's doctor is doing her best to help him. But Sam has been here since a couple of months after Dean got hired. And he hasn't gotten much better at all, in almost two years. Dean is starting to lose hope.

* * *

><p>Dean gets home at one in the morning, going straight to bed after setting his alarm for six o'clock. His shift doesn't start until eight, but he needs an hour to get ready, and he wants an extra hour to make sure Sam gets some breakfast in him. Dean tosses and turns in his sheets for about an hour before sleep finally envelops him. But he dreams of a woman hanging limply from a ceiling lamp, sunlight dancing in a pair of piercing blue eyes, and a dirty plate full of fly-ridden grey goo.<p>

* * *

><p>Dean awakes at five thirty, sweaty but very cold. So he decides to take a long, warm shower, trying not to dread the day before him. Getting less than four hours of rest was not uncommon for Dean. Neither were nightmares, or waking up screaming andor crying.

When Dean has showered, eaten breakfast, gotten dressed and brushed his teeth he walks out of his apartment toward the parking lot where Baby stands, shining in the early morning sunlight. Arriving at work, he dumps his things in his office before going to Sam's room. He knocks softly, hoping that Sam is actually sleeping. But when Dean steps inside, he sees that Sam isn't.

He is sitting folded up in his armchair, hugging his long legs against his chest. "Morning, Dean." He says breathlessly.

"Hi, Sammy. What are you seeing?"

Dean walks slowly toward his brother, reaching out a hand toward his shoulder.

"You're stepping on them!" Sam says in panic. "The cockroaches!"

"They aren't real, Sammy. Come, come with me. I'll take you to get some breakfast. Okay?"

"Okay." Sam says, still looking at the floor. "Okay." He nods his head shakily and reaches out to grab Dean's extended hand.

Dean watches as Sam slowly folds his legs out and puts them carefully on the floor, not looking up. He shivers, and Dean squeezes his hand tightly. "You're okay, Sammy. They're not real."

Sam closes his eyes and inhales deeply, squeezing Dean's hand back. When he opens his eyes again he looks down at the floor and smiles slightly. "They're gone."

Dean leads Sam out of the room, still holding his hand tightly. When they reach the hallway Sam stumbles, and Dean curses himself for walking too fast for Sam to keep up. He apologizes and holds his elbow out instead of his hand. Sam puts an arm through the loop of Dean's and they walk slowly toward the cafeteria.

"Did you get any sleep at all?"

"No. Firecrackers." Sam says somberly.

By the time the brothers reach the empty cafeteria Dean is supporting most of Sam's weight. So Dean sets him down on a chair by a small table. "I'll get us some cereal. You sit tight."

Sam nods, resting his head in his hands. Dean walks over to the counter by the wall and grabs two bowls, a couple of spoons, a cereal box and a carton of milk. He hurries back over to Sam and sets the items down. He pours cereal into both bowls, even though he's already eaten breakfast at home. He fills Sam's up with milk before his own, putting a spoon gently in Sam's hand.

Sam opens his eyes and frowns down at the bowl. "They're maggots."

"Those are not real. It's Lucky Charms, I promise. Eat some." Dean takes a spoonful himself, adding a satisfied "mm"-noise to encourage his little brother.

"I can't, Dean."

"Sam, just eat some. Please?"

"I can't!" Sam yells, standing abruptly and throwing his bowl at the opposite wall.

It shatters and falls to the floor beside the feet of a terrified-looking nurse. Dean gets to his feet, grabbing Sam's wrists. "Sammy, calm down! They're gonna sedate you again if you don't calm down."

Sam sits down reluctantly, quietly fuming at the tabletop.

"Here. Have mine. I ate at home." Dean slides his bowl toward Sam. "Sammy, please. It's cereal, I promise."

"Dean, I can't-"

"Sammy. Close your eyes." Dean watches as Sam does what he says, picking up his spoon with a shaking hand. "Now eat some. Please." Dean pleads, and his voice sounds pathetic in his own ears.

Sam grabs the bowl with his other hand and manages to get a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

"See? Cereal. Keep your eyes closed and eat."

Dean watches Sam slowly eat his bowl of cereal for fifteen minutes. Dean frowns as they start to get soggy, and pours some new ones in. Sam doesn't open his eyes.

When Sam finally sets his spoon down and opens his eyes, he smiles. "I was so hungry, Dean."

"I know. Feel better?"

"I actually do. Thank you, Dean."

Dean smiles back. "Now let's get you back to your room." He stands and offers his arm to Sam again. Sam grabs it and they walk back to room number four. When they get back Dean lets go of Sam and lies down as far to one side of his small bed as possible. There is still about an hour until Dean's shift starts, so he gestures for Sam to come lie down.

"Dean, I'm not four anymore." Sam grins at his brother, but moves to join him.

"Shut up and lie down. You've always been able to fall asleep if I'm here."

Sam and Dean can barely fit in the bed at the same time, but Dean honestly doesn't give a shit. His arm is around Sam's shoulders, and Sam relaxes against his side.

"Want me to sing you a lullaby?" Dean teases.

"Shut up, jerk." Sam says, half-amused and half-exhausted.

"Now sleep, bitch." Dean replies, leaning his cheek against the top of Sam's head.

Sam's long hair tickles Dean's nose as his little brother moves his head. "Dean, I can hear them. The-"

"Shh." Dean coos, and he would feel ridiculous about that if it wasn't for Sam's content sigh. "It's just me and you in here. I'll protect you if anything comes for you. Now sleep."

Just a moment later, Sam's leg twitches and Dean knows he's fallen asleep. He lets out a sigh of relief. Sam would go for days without sleeping. The only times he slept were when his body gave up and he fainted, when Dean was there for him to lean on, or sometimes when the doctors managed to give him the right combinations of medications. Unfortunately, Dean wasn't allowed to just move another bed into Sam's room and sleep in there. But he would stay with Sam whenever he had the chance. When he couldn't… He just had to trust Sam's doctor to keep him alive.

* * *

><p>Dean listens to Sam's light snores until there is a soft knock on the door. The door opens slowly and a doctor with red hair peeks her head through the door. Dean moves a finger to his lips, indicating for the doctor to be quiet. He moves his arm out from under Sam as carefully as he can, and luckily Sam doesn't wake up. Dean sneaks toward the door and joins the doctor in the hallway.<p>

"Hi there, Dean. I didn't expect you to be here."

"Morning, Charlie." Dean hugs her. "When was the last time he slept?"

"It was nearing four days. I'm very glad you managed to get him to sleep. Even if he wakes up soon."

"He's been down for almost an hour, and I got a bowl of cereal into him too."

"That's great, Dean! I'm glad." Charlie smiles and squeezes Dean's arm.

"So when are you coming home?" Dean asks. "And how's Audrey?"

"She's great. I'll come home on Monday. I'm taking Audrey out for a romantic dinner this weekend."

"You gonna pop the question?" Dean grins.

"Nah. I'm still planning that. Has to be perfect, you know?"

"Sure. Anyway, my shift starts in a few minutes. But I'll see you later. Let me know if anything happens to Sam."

"I'll stay with him until he wakes." Charlie promises.

Dean hugs her again before walking toward his office. Charlie Bradbury had started working here about a year before Dean, and when he got hired they had clicked instantly. About a year back Charlie and Dean had become roommates. But since Charlie was dating this girl named Audrey, she often spent days or even weeks at a time at her place. Charlie was Dean's best friend (except for his brother, of course), closely followed by Benny. Charlie was also the doctor on Sam's case, and because he needed so much monitoring she only had one other patient. Dean would trust Charlie with his own life, even though he felt slightly reluctant about doing so with his brother's life. But nothing or no one would ever be good enough for Sam, as far as Dean was concerned.

* * *

><p>Dean had sessions with Fergus and Meg before lunch, and they went like they always did. Not much was new with those two. Dean was hoping that they would soon get to leave, since they had both actually gotten a lot better since their arrivals. Meg had been here for about two months and Fergus for about five weeks. They were both on medications to assist them with living with their conditions, and Dean thought they would soon be ready for life outside of Illinois Behavioral Medicine Center again.<p>

Dean decides to eat his lunch in the cafeteria with the patients today, instead of in his office. Dean enters the cafeteria with his salad and looks around the room. Meg and Fergus are sitting in different parts of the room, not bothering each other. About a dozen other patients are there as well, some of them alone at their tables and some of them in pairs or small groups. Castiel is nowhere to be seen, however. Dean notices Charlie's long red hair by the far wall of the cafeteria, and sees that Sam is sitting opposite her at a table below the windows. He walks toward them and plunks down in the chair next to Sam.

"Hey, Sammy!" Dean greets happily. "Charlie."

"Hello, Dean." Charlie says politely. "I'll give you guys a minute." She stands and walks over to a patient sitting alone.

"Hi, Dean." Sam says, voice a lot happier than Dean has heard it in a while.

"Did you sleep well?" Dean asks, removing the lid of his salad.

"Charlie said I slept for three hours!" The fact that Sam thinks that is a long time speaks volumes.

"Any hallucinations since you woke up?"

"A couple. But they weren't that bad. There was a clown in my room when I woke up, but Charlie was there to protect me."

"She promised to watch over you while you slept, since I had to go see my patients. I'm sorry I had to go." Dean takes a bite of his Caesar salad and chews slowly.

"It's okay, Dean. I know you can't stay with me all the time."

Dean looks down at Sam's plate and sees that there is a bite taken from his sandwich. "No creepy crawlers in your lunch." he notes, gesturing toward it with his fork.

"Not yet." Sam says, and hurriedly takes a big bite. "I'm going to eat as many sandwiches as I can while I have the opportunity." Sam chews clumsily, like he's almost forgotten how to do it properly.

"That's good, Sammy." They continue to eat in companionable silence.

* * *

><p>When Dean finishes his salad Sam has managed to cram down three sandwiches. He moans painfully. "My stomach hurts, Dean."<p>

"Go figure." Dean sighs. "That's the most you've eaten in months. Just make sure you drink a lot of water today and that you get to keep everything down."

"I'll try." Sam says, rubbing his stomach like a child with a tummy-ache.

"I have the first session with my new patient in a few minutes, so I have to go. I hope the rest of your day goes well. And remember, it's not real. Charlie is real, the other patients are real, and you and I are real." Dean stands and puts a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'll see you later, Sammy."

"Bye Dean. Good luck with your patient!"

* * *

><p>Dean stands ready with his notebook in one hand outside Castiel's room. He hopes that Castiel has had a day as good as Sam's, but since he didn't see him at lunch he figures he hasn't. Dean knocks on the door and waits for an answer.<p>

"Come in." Castiel's deep voice comes from inside.

Dean opens the door but stays in the doorway. "Hello, Castiel. It's time for your first session. Please join me in the Discussion Room." Dean smiles encouragingly.

Castiel is sitting on his bed, his hair even messier than it had been the previous day. He stands slowly and straightens his white pants and t-shirt, provided by the facility. "I don't know where that is."

"Come with me and I'll show you. We have an hour." Dean gestures for Castiel to follow him.

Castiel moves hesitantly toward Dean and follows him out of the room, down the hallway and into a room with a thick, brown door. Dean sits down in one of the comfortable armchairs (much more comfortable than the ones in the patients' rooms) but notices that Castiel is standing awkwardly right inside the door. "Sit." Dean instructs kindly, gesturing toward the chair opposite his own.

Castiel walks over and sits down gingerly. He looks small and frightened in the large, puffy chair. Dean has made himself comfortable, but Castiel sits like he's about to bolt out of the room at any second.

The room has no windows, since it's intended to be used for private conversations. The patients are meant to feel safe here, and to not get distracted by what's going on in the hallway. Instead of the big windows that the other rooms have, this one has various large paintings of landscapes, clouds and flowers instead. The walls are painted a light blue and the floor is wooden. There is a large round rug in the middle of the room, with the two armchairs arranged to face each other. A couple of floor lamps and potted plants are placed in the corners. Dean would say that this room makes him feel calm, hoping his patients feel the same way.

"So, Castiel, how has your day been so far?" Dean asks, balancing his notebook on the armrest of the chair.

"Uneventful." Castiel responds. "I watched the clouds for a while." He moves his eyes to a painting of a cloud on the wall behind Dean.

"I didn't see you in the cafeteria at lunch." Dean notes.

"I wasn't hungry." Castiel keeps his eyes on the painting.

"You haven't eaten since you got here. Are you not comfortable joining the others in the cafeteria?"

"I don't like strangers." Castiel admits, moving his eyes to the rug between them. He wiggles his bandaged fingers slightly.

"Would you like to eat in your room instead? Or perhaps you'd feel better if someone else joined you?" Dean suggests.

"I'd be comfortable if you joined me, I think." Castiel still doesn't look up at Dean.

"I am a stranger too, though?"

"Hardly. You have told me many things about yourself." Castiel looks up at Dean now, his blue eyes intense.

"Fair enough. I will join you when I can. Would you like to eat in you room when I can't?"

"If it's allowed."

"Of course. We're here to help. And maybe you won't be uncomfortable eating among the others for very long. Perhaps you will find some other patients that you are comfortable with." Dean writes down a couple of notes.

"Maybe." Castiel looks down at the rug again.

"Is there anything you would like to talk about?" Dean asks, watching Castiel's face.

"Nothing comes to mind."

"Would you feel comfortable telling me a little more about yourself?"

"I wouldn't know where to begin." Castiel admits, looking up at Dean through his eyelashes.

"Maybe at the beginning?" Dean suggests. "Can you tell me about your childhood?"

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued!<strong>

**Author's note:** Brother-fluff and Charlie! Yay! So there you go! I really hope you like it. In the next chapter you'll get to hear some more about Cas' past.  
>Feel free to give me suggestions on what you would like to see, and I'll take them into consideration.<p>

**Please leave a review to let me know what you thought of the chapter! I love you all. ^^**


End file.
